


The Scorpioni Throne

by SatuD2



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Character Study, Childhood, Ficlet, Gen, Isolation, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 17:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatuD2/pseuds/SatuD2
Summary: It was never fully dark in the Fright Zone. There were always lamps lit, an eerie green light cast over the metal and stone. In the depths was a long forgotten chamber. Directly, though no one knew this, beneath the Black Garnet that resided above, hooked to tubes and wires in an attempt to harness the power locked within.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Scorpioni Throne

It was never fully dark in the Fright Zone. There were always lamps lit, an eerie green light cast over the metal and stone. In the depths was a long forgotten chamber. Directly, though no one knew this, beneath the Black Garnet that resided above, hooked to tubes and wires in an attempt to harness the power locked within. This chamber was lit from the doorway, the light softened by gauzy curtains that were almost rotted away. Green cast over inlaid portraits of those long dead, dark maroon splotches soaking up the light. A throne sat at the head of the room. Stone backed with shattered uneven edges. 

Scorpia came here a lot. When she couldn’t sleep, or when she was beginning to moult. Behind the throne she’d lined up her previous chitinous skeletons, like the growth chart some of the other kids had drawn on the backs of their dormitory doors. Moulting always started with her claws, the pincers becoming stiff and painful, and since they were so big and so noticeable anyway, she would come here to hide out until the previous chitin had shed and her new exoskeleton had hardened enough for training.

If the horde missed her when she did this, they never said anything.

She had just finished moulting now. Her pincers and tail a soft pink colour, almost the same as the rest of her skin. Her hair, long and white, had been braided and twined around the spikes on her shoulders. Closing her eyes, she touched her cheek and imagined it was a kiss from mothers she could barely remember. Their family photo was in a tattered little folder on her lap, alongside the plushie her ma had made for her. Or so she liked to think. Really, she didn’t know where the picture, nor the plushie had really come from. She needed to find a frame for the former, before time and touch destroyed the paper.

Knowing this and unable to stop herself, she flicked the folder open with the tip of her tail (the point bending in a way that was deeply uncomfortable) and settled deeper into the throne, looking at the smiling faces and the happy little baby immortalised on film. They did look happy. They must have loved her very much.

She carefully propped the photo up on the back of the throne, slipped onto the floor and started parading around the room. Her tail waving proudly behind her, pincers raised in a triumphant gesture, inviting applause. Then snapping a salute and practicing a march. They must have wanted this for her. To be a good soldier. She wouldn’t disappoint them.

And her shadow, huge and warped, cavorted over the inlaid portraits on the wall, their frozen smiles becoming screams as her movements impaled them, one by one.


End file.
